


Lita Vercetti

by Bitch_In_The_Blue



Series: Grand Theft Auto: Thirty Years [4]
Category: Grand Theft Auto Series (Video Games), Grand Theft Auto V, Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas, Grand Theft Auto: Vice City
Genre: Cheating, Depression, F/M, Family Drama, Hopeful Ending, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Parent-Child Relationship, Rehabilitation, Sad Memories, Single Parents, Time Skips, Unplanned Pregnancy, end of timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-16 22:30:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 12,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12351864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bitch_In_The_Blue/pseuds/Bitch_In_The_Blue
Summary: Part two of snippets of Lita's life: now in San Andreas.The end of thirty years.





	1. Arrival

"Ma'am, we've arrived in Las Venturas," the male flight attendant's voice woke her from a heavy sleep. She didn't even remember dozing off. She felt like she was still awake.  
"Thanks," her voice came out groggy and she was disoriented from sleep. She felt nauseous immediately when she remembered what she'd done. "Do you have something I can puke in?"  
" _Oh-_ " he frowned, quickly grabbing the same plastic bag that was used to collect the passenger's garbage. She immediately began heaving once it was in her hands. "Jesus- are you okay?"  
"I'm great, thanks," she wheezed, spitting her stomach contents into the bag.   
First memory of San Andreas: This moment.  
  
The first thing she did when she left the plane was find a payphone.   
_What was that place called again..._  
She thought back to what the number was for the rehab center they sent Ken to as she flipped through the phone book.   
_There._  
 _"Fort Carson Medical Center. How can I help you, sir or ma'am?"_  
"Hi, I'm looking for a resident. Name is Ken Rosenberg."  
 _"I can have someone get him, can I ask who's calling?"_  
"Uh-- Tell him it's Vercetti." That would get his attention. Tommy refused to take his calls since he was admitted, but he tried to call them often. Lita was the only one who would actually answer.   
_"Hold on, please."_ _  
  
_" _Fuck_ , am I glad to see you," Ken greeted her when she entered the medical center.   
She spent the night in Las Venturas in a cheap hotel before catching a bus to Fort Carson. San Andreas heat wasn't as awful as Vice City. There wasn't any humidity, but still the place was _hot_.  
Lita immediately pulled him into a tight hug when she saw him. It had taken close to a year for her to normalize physical contact with people on a regular basis. "You and me both," she agreed.  
"Tommy didn't come with you, did he?"  
"Tommy's not coming," she said. She already told him over the phone that he wasn't. Did he forget or was he just not listening? "He's, uh... He doesn't know where I am. I kind of.. _.left_ him..."  
"You left? And came here to see _me?_ " His jaw dropped. "Jesus Christ, are you here to run away with me? Because he'll murder me- I mean, he ** _WILL_** murder me!"  
" _Ken!"_ She interrupted him before he could keep panicking. He had always been the openly anxious type. "Tommy. Isn't. Coming. I'm not here to run off with you." She laughed at the idea. Was that what he was hoping for all those years? "I left. I'm not going back. I'm gonna be starting over out here. I thought it was a good idea to go somewhere Tommy wouldn't look."  
"So I'm a camouflage. You think he won't come looking where there's a loser who can't support anybody, let alone someone pregnant."  
She winced, not trying to call him a loser. "Well--- I think I can help you too, in return." She unzipped her backpack to show the remaining four thousand some dollars in a plastic gallon bag inside the main pocket.   
"Jesus Christ, how did you get that?"  
"I _might have_ stolen it from Tommy."  
He sighed, picturing Tommy coming to San Andreas for the sole purpose of murdering him and taking his wife and his money back home. "I'm gonna die if he finds out. Why did you do all of this?"  
"I have something important to do?"   
"That wasn't even an answer, that was a question!"  
"I. Got. Knocked. Up... _Okay?_ "  



	2. Legitimate Business

When Ken got out of rehab, he was offered a job.   
A terrible job, but a job nonetheless.  
The operator of Caligula's Palace- a casino and hotel in Las Venturas. Lita was three and a half months along by the time they moved into the executive suite of the hotel.  
They did _not_ share the bedroom. She got the bed and he stuck to the couch.  
Everything was paid for by their employers. Who all had no idea who they really were- which was good because they'd both be executed on the spot if they knew.   
They also had a third tennant: a colorful parrot that never shut the fuck up. Named Tony.   
How it got there, they would never know. It was already living there when they moved in. Cursing up a storm and spouting stereotypical mafia lingo.   
Above all else: they were on edge at all times. Because Ken had been employed by the Sindacco, the Leone, and the motherfucking Forelli crime families.   
All three rivaled the Vercetti family, and would be more than happy to kill Tommy's wife.   
She and Ken made up a fake identity for her. She was a hotel maid who didn't speak a word of English but was shacking up with him. That she was pregnant with his kid and that they were going to get married. Neat, clean, and complete bullshit. Most of them were too racist to try to understand when she spoke Spanish.  
  
She had to put on an act when any of them intended to drop in. Most of the time, she opted not to speak at all and pretended not to understand what they were saying unless it was a rude request for a drink. And because they thought she didn't understand, they would occasionally say unpleasant, sexual things about her.  
This was humiliating.  
And carried on for several months until-  
  
"Paul?" Lita gasped, spotting another familiar face in the hotel room among two others- who hopefully there was an explanation for.   
"Salamanca!" He recognized her immediately. Same old cockney accent she used to poke fun at.   
Overwhelmed with relief that it wasn't another mob boss visiting, she threw her arms around him for a quick second.   
"You swelled up like a fuckin' _balloon_ , luv," he noted.  
"And you finally cut off that ridiculous fuckin' mullet," she beamed.   
"When did _that_ happen?"  
She touched her hand to her bump. Seven months along by now. "Well-"  
"That ain't Rosie's is it?"  
Ken groaned from the couch. "That would be the _only_ thing on Earth to make my life more fucked than before!"  
" _Jesus no_ \- it's Tommy's. We got married a few years ago."  
He looked offended. "Well where was my invitation-"  
"We don't even-" she rolled her eyes. "I don't even think you were in America, let it go. Besides... Look where it got me."  
" _Oh._ "  
"Ohhh, look at the tits on 'er..."  
She looked past Paul to see a skinny white boy in a white bucket hat and track suit, casually sliding his hand into his pants.   
"Give it a fuckin' break, Maccer!" Paul scolded. His guest immediately pulled his hands behind his back like a child caught red handed.  
"And who the fuck are they?"   
"He's part of a band I'm managing... and can't find. And _he's_ a new friend who saved our lives out in the desert because somebody-" he shot a glare at Maccer. "-decided to slip me some peyote and we got lost."  
"Carl Johnson," his new friend introduced himself. He was a young black man with buzzed short hair and tired looking eyes. Like he had been working or driving for days on end without rest. He wore a plain white tank and loose jeans and tennis shoes.  
"Lita Vercetti," she greeted. "My husband and I used to work with these two idiots."  
"He here too?" CJ asked.   
"No, just me. It's a long fucking story."  
  
Over the following weeks, Carl had done Lita the favor of setting her up in a hotel room at a casino he had stake in along with a friend. A Triad leader he called Woozy. Blind as a bat and, ironically, one of the first members of a different gang to treat her well. She had also come to learn that Carl was a part of CGF in Los Santos. Nobody but the close knit group of people helping her knew of her gang affiliations, but they didn't care. She was there now, and promised loyalty to them as long as they helped her.  
Which was more needed than she thought. Apparently, Ken had seen a familiar face out in town. Mike. One of Tommy's.   
She gave what small amount of money she had left by then to Carl, after requesting that he deal with them. It was something that could be blamed on the remaining members of the Forelli family branched out to San Andreas.  
"You're a long way from home," she noted. They were driving back to the casino from the clinic. CJ had explained to her why he wasn't in Los Santos anymore. Starting with how his friends were responsible for his mother's death, how his brother was in jail, ending with how members of the LSPD were puppeteering low income areas throughout Los Santos.   
"Yeah," he agreed. "Tryna fix shit for my family."  
He was kind enough to help her get to her doctors' appointments to check on her baby's health. He and his sister Kendl quickly became some of Lita's closest friends, along with Paul and Ken, who were apparently neck deep in mafia trouble at Caligula's. She was lucky to be hidden away by then.  
All of this to deal with and CJ was still willing to help. She'd have to find a way to repay him.   
"Look, I know I don't seem like it right now with all of the baby stuff, but I used to be somebody the people back home became afraid of. For a good reason. When all of this-" she motioned to her bump. "-is done, I'm willing to work with you. Whatever you need, whether it's a gunner or a whatever-- I owe you a lot, Carl."  
He thought for a moment and pulled the car over for her. Ken's white Admiral. It was on the verge of falling apart.   
He had just recently gotten Madd Dogg into rehab. He'd stay there for a few weeks and then immediately get back into recording.   
"I got something I'm workin' on," he said. "I'mma start up a record company. Already got some guys gonna record with us. You think you might wanna produce along with Ken? There's some real fuckin' money in the business."  
The ground floor of a legitimate business. Not bad for someone who didn't finish school. "Consider my application submitted. You've got yourself another producer."


	3. 19117 Portola Drive

September 29th, 1993. Moving day.  
And only seventeen days after her baby was born.  
A perfect baby girl, named Tommie Rosalinda Vercetti.   
19117 Portola Drive, Los Santos, San Andreas.  
A newly built, newly purchased home on the edge of Vinewood. The record company was doing amazing, and made money faster than you could blink. Lita would never have to worry about money again, contrary to what Tommy believed.  
Her friends helped her to move in and the job was finished in one day with how many came to help. Ken, Paul, CJ, Sweet, Kendl and Cesar Vialpando the newlyweds (and recently named Tommie's godparents), and Woozie sent two of his strongest guys to help move in the furniture.   
  
Every other week, so that no one was too tired, another one of them moved into a new home in the Los Santos area.  
Lita and Tommie in Rockford Hills.  
Ken in La Puerta.  
The Vialpandos in Vespucci Beach.  
CJ and Paul in neighboring houses in Vinewood Hills while Sweet opted to stay on Grove Street.  
And once they were done, business as usual.  
Life was good.  
  
The bed felt so empty some nights.  
She would trade any amount of money for Tommy to have been there with her. Nearly a year and a half after she disappeared, she still thought of him daily and imagined what life would be like if he had abandoned everything to raise their daughter together.  
"I wish you knew what you were missing," she said aloud, as if he could hear her on the clear opposite side of the country. He still hadn't found her. The search last year had ended. She never heard anything of familiar faces in San Andreas again.  
There were no records anywhere of a Lita or Lola Salamanca or Vercetti. The house was even under CJ's name.  
She borrowed Ken's last name to do anything that would be on record-- except for the birth certificate.  
Eventually, she'd ease up. Bills would start to come addressed to Lola Vercetti once the search died down.  
The little girl was a Vercetti, through and through. The poor thing was gonna have to live with that.  
Raising children was different now. _Everything_ made you a bad parent. Holding your baby too much made them coddled, not holding them enough made them grow up to be sociopaths- what was the proper fucking amount, then??  
Toys and supplies were expensive and only getting more complicated. Everything was a safety hazard according to baby magazines and news articles. And there was some study about vaccines being bad-- not that she was worried. She got vaccinated as a child and was perfectly healthy. She'd just have to get Tommie vaccinated and hope for the best.  
She couldn't sleep tonight. She had the feeling that something was about to happen.  
Suddenly Tommie started crying.  
_Yup, there it is._  
Mothers' Intuition, she assumed.  
She got out of bed and quietly stepped over to the crib she kept in her room. The tiny girl felt pleasantly warm, not cold in the night. Nothing wrong with her diaper. She must've been hungry.  
She calmed almost immediately when she was fed.  
Lita wanted to keep her baby close all of the time. She'd hold her forever if she could, but she'd eventually get too big. She'd hopefully grow to be a responsible, functioning adult.  
And in between would be so many memories. Birthdays, graduations, teenaged heartbreaks- so many firsts in her life; and her father would miss them all.  
  
_I wish you would've come.  
She's worth it._


	4. Showbiz

"Mom, can I go outside and swim?"  
"Yeah, we'll come outside with you," Lita saw that her daughter was already dressed out in her hot pink bathing suit and carrying a set of goggles. Asking after already planning on doing something was a funny quirk the seven year old had developed. Lita turned to CJ and Ken, who came over to talk about marketing for a new artist they'd signed. "Mind if we move to the back yard?"  
  
"She's getting tall," Ken noted.  
"She's probably gonna grow to be taller than me," Lita sighed, watching her daughter cannonball into the deep end with a high-pitched "woo!" and immediately resurface with the help of the styrofoam pool noodle in her hand. "She's so cute, it kills me that shes not gonna stop growing."  
"Mom, did you see that!?" She was so excited.  
"I saw, Mija! Great job!" Lita grinned, turning back to the men. "She stopped calling me 'Mommy' recently. I feel like I'm getting old."  
Tommie was in the first grade, and the 'mom' thing started around the time she started seeing other kids doing the same. She got into some trouble recently with a boy named Tyler White. Apparently he made fun of her name, saying that it was for boys.  
Lita just had her thirty seventh birthday. That would mean Tommy was... Forty nine in a few months.  
"So!" Lita pulled herself from her thoughts. "Tell me about this blonde girl we signed."  
Blonde white jailbait was what was trending in music these days. And it didn't require real talent- which made signing new people very easy. Cash flowed.  
"Well she's getting cold feet about signing," Ken said. "We haven't gotten her yet."  
"She said something about a guy in another company offerin' her more." CJ added. "So we came up with a plan. We need you in on this."  
  
And she did her part.  
Having just beaten the shit out of the unpleasant older man in the rival record company, as planned. Nobody would suspect such a thing from a short, un-intimidating woman her age. Meanwhile, CJ talked their prospective client into signing a contract.  
"I'm calling the police," he threatened, nose bloodied and clearly broken. Lita may have been out of practice, but she could still handle business. "I'll have you _rot_ , you bitch!"  
"I have some friends with connections," she said calmly, using the hand sanitizer on his desk to clean blood off of her fingers and her wedding ring, then wiping it off onto the jacket on the back of his tipped over desk chair. Anything would be fine to dirty up as long as it wasn't her nice blue blouse and pencil skirt. Her business attire.  
She set the unpleasantly sharp heel of her matte black heel on his hand before it could reach the telephone on the carpet next to him. They'd made quite the mess of his office during their 'discussion'.  
"Computer guys," She continued. They call themselves IT technicians or whatever," she added. "Now, I'm no good with computers; but they are. They came in last week to install your internet. And let's just say it'd be a _reeeaaally_ bad day for you if one of them puts in an anonymous tip about all the creepy, voyeuristic, candid photos you keep on your hard drive. Especially the ones of, say, that one girl you're trying to sign who isn't quite seventeen yet. I'm pretty sure that's illegal. _You'd lose it all._ " She smiled confidently when she saw his expression drop. "Your job, your nice car, and that lovely wife in the picture on your desk. How long have you been married?" She glanced at the photo. "Oh, and you have a son! How old is he?"  
Needless to say, he backed off on their prospective client... After she beat him down a little more specifically for victimizing young women.   
Intimidation became a regular part of her job.  
There's no business like show business.  



	5. Hostile Personality

This was maybe the third time they'd been intimate. Lita had been seeing a guy named Juan from out in town-- he was an instructor at ULSA, and was charming; to say the least. Tonight was the first time they went back to her place, while Tommie was asleep for school the next morning.  
Juan's lips at her neck made her giggle, having to cover her mouth to hide the sound. Little did they know that Tommie woke up in the middle of the night to get some water.  
"Mom?"  
Lita gasped and quickly pulled her T-shirt back down over her exposed bra before appearing in her daughter's sight over the back of the couch. "Can't sleep, Mija?"  
"I heard a noise." The twelve year old said slowly. "Is everything okay?"  
"Yeah, baby, everything's fine. I just- have some company over."  
"Gross."  
Lita and Juan's faces both went red. "Nono, just- we're just hanging out. I promise. We weren't gonna do anything-"  
"Jesus fuckin' Christ," Tommie muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes and turning to go back upstairs.  
Lita scrambled onto her knees to peer over the back of the couch. "What did you just say?"  
"Fuckin' cockblock," Juan muttered once Tommie disappeared up the stairs.  
Lita's immediate anger shifted. "Excuse me?"  
"Nothing, just-"  
"Leave."  
He frowned. "I wasn't-"  
"If me having a kid bothers you, then leave," she glared.   
"I'm-"  
"Goodbye, we're done here. Thanks for the only half-decent sex."  
  
More new houses were built in Rockford Hills in the last few years. More families moved into them.  
In early 2005, the big house across the narrow road finally got a buyer.  
A family of four moved in. The De Santas.  
They had two kids close to Tommie's age. She was to turn twelve that year. Their daughter Tracey was close to fourteen, and their son Jimmy had just turned ten.  
The wife was nice enough, if not clearly irritable all of the time. She seemed to resent her husband for having her move out to Los Santos from North Yankton. She didn't seem to have many good things to say about him in general. Lita couldn't see what the problem was. It wasn't like he seemed terrible. He was very attractive. Just distant. And excessively sarcastic. And acted like he barely even wanted to live on the West coast as well. And he was a little chubby if she were being honest, but it was kinda cute. He somewhat reminded her of the suburban dad version of Tommy. What might have been.   
  
"Why move if you didn't want to?" Lita asked. She and Amanda, the wife, had begun spending time together. Today they laid out by the De Santa's pool. It was a rare occasion for Lita to spend time with someone who didn't know anything about her- aside from the men she'd dated over time. She was soon to turn forty one. The De Santas were just a little younger than her.   
"Michael always had these big Vinewood dreams," Amanda explained. Neither of them or Michael worked during the day while the kids were all off at school. He apparently disappeared often doing God knows what- instead of spending time with his wife who barely liked him. Lita still could barely understand why. But she and Michael hadn't spoken very much. "But I just wanted an honest living so we could do better for our kids."  
"Right."  
"He messed up pretty bad back home. We had to leave everything in a hurry so that one of his friends-" She said the word like it was poison in her mouth. "- wouldn't come around anymore... Turns out Michael had enough money saved to where neither of us has to work for a good long while... What about you, Lita? You said you were married, right?"  
"Yeah, my husband's... We're separated. I haven't seen him in, like... twelve years. I'm raising Tommie the best I can. I wouldn't be able to do it if I didn't have so many friends out here."  
"Well you're doing good for yourself!" Amanda nodded. "Rosa's a nice girl. So polite. My son keeps writing her name in his school notebook. We had to tell him to pay better attention."  
Lita giggled. "That's sweet of him. Hate to break it to him that it doesn't seem like she cares about boys yet. She's at that age too. Go figure."  
  
"Wait, what does PTA stand for?"   
"Parent- Teacher Association. It's when parents of the students get together to try to better the school. Honestly, you don't know?" Condescending bitch.  
"I grew up in Cuba, Sharon, there's no fucking PTA I ever heard of as a child in Havana."  
Sharon White, mother of Tyler White, a boy in Tommie's math class, gasped at how Lita unashamedly spoke to her. "It's no wonder where your daughter gets her hostile personality from."  
" _Fuck you_ , your son thinks it's funny to snap my daughter's bra straps. It's not my fault you raised your son to be an asshole and a pussy at the same time. You should beat his ass yourself if you don't want my daughter to do it."  
Sharon White looked absolutely appalled, starting to open her mouth to return with an insult.  
Lita stopped her with a halting movement. "Take your dye job somewhere else."  
Sharon glared, absently reaching to touch her bleached blonde hair; but turned away from Lita, who was rumored to be somehow related to The Harwood Butcher, judging by her last name. They weren't completely wrong.  
"Psychopath," Sharon muttered as she walked away.   
Lita overheard her. "Enjoy the disappointing sex with your third husband, Sharon! Can't wait to meet your fourth!" Lita called, just loud enough for the other mom to hear her. She turned to Amanda, who was struggling not to laugh at what she'd said. "Honestly, he stared at my tits for like a full minute earlier like he'd never seen a pair before. Can't be too far off from divorce."  
Amanda snorted, letting slip some poorly restrained laughter. She was amazed at how Lita fended off snotty helicopter parents. Everybody thought they were a professional at raising kids, but it was harder than what they made it seem. "You're great, Lita. Really. Exactly the kind of mom I wanna see at these things."  
Tommie was a month away from turning thirteen and was budding into womanhood-- and seemed to get into frequent fights in school for one reason or another.  
One was that kid Tyler, both for snapping her bra and for frequently making fun of her name (part of why she now demanded to be called Rosa). Another was with a girl named Paulette, because she purportedly called Tommie "a dumb skank", another because a boy named Robbie said her father wasn't around because he didn't want her to be born.  
The reason those kids were that way stemmed specifically from their parents. That much was obvious. They were fucking awful.  
However, Tommie was the one who often took the blame for fighting back. Lita was called in to talk to the principal every time, not that Tommie was actually in trouble. All lita could see was that she was defending herself from bullies.  
Lita never really adjusted into the role of a PTA parent. It was a weird concept that everything you did as a mother was wrong unless you fit into the PTA clique. Perhaps that was why she went soft as a parent- everyone was too judgmental.  
Tommie was a good girl. She just didn't let anyone talk down to her. That was what mattered.   
And she was a _genius_. Whether or not her teachers or school administrators considered her to be troubled, her grades went above and beyond the standard. She set the standard in most of her classes. Some of her teachers had accused her of cheating and had her take some tests again. She ended up with better scores afterward, which proved them wrong.   
"She could be in the gifted class if she could control her aggression," they said. But Lita was actually glad to see the aggression. She wouldn't allow anyone else to think they had agency over her; and she wouldn't allow her daughter to believe she was overreacting by being angry when someone touched her without consent- which was what Lita stressed the most.  
When she got angry, she reminded Lita so much of Tommy.  
It actually made her proud to see.  



	6. Sugar

There wasn't any weird intent for her inviting him over. The kitchen sink had backed up and she didn't know enough about it to fix it herself. She'd never had to before. Ugh.  
"I don't know if I should call a plumber, so I figured I'd ask for a second opinion first."  
"Doesn't hurt to take a look," Michael De Santa shrugged as she stepped aside to let him into the house. "What are neighbors for?"  
"Well I appreciate the help," Lita smiled with relief, leading him to the kitchen sink. They hadn't spoken very much since he and his family moved in last year. Just short talks about day-to-day things. But they shared plenty of glances. She liked him. He seemed... Good.  
  
No dishes in the sink, just full of dirty water. "I don't know why it's been doing this, but I think it might be because of the dish washer. That was just replaced and-"  
"Relax," he chuckled. "It's no big deal. The guy who installed it probably hooked it up to the wrong part of the disposal."  
He got down to his knees with a grunt in front of the sink and opened the cabinet doors. Lita stood close by, leaning against the counter and observing. It was the middle of the day. Friday. All of the kids were at school.  
"Yeah," he confirmed his theory with a single glance. "They hooked up this hose all wrong, take a look."  
She leaned in close to try to see past him, which was a little difficult. She had to bend over pretty far to be able to see over his broad shoulders.  
"Where?"  
"Right here," he pointed to the hose, which appeared to be dripping. "It's leaking a little bit too. The plywood down here is rotting."  
"Shit," she muttered. "Should I call a plumber after all?"  
"Don't need one, I can fix this in fifteen minutes. You're just gonna wanna put a new piece of plywood down here." He peeked back at her and accidentally caught an eyeful of cleavage... Jesus, that shirt was cut low from that angle. Great tits, though. He quickly looked up to her face, trying to hide that he looked elsewhere first. "Got a tool kit?"  
"Uh, yeah," she felt her face grow warm with flush when she followed his gaze before he corrected himself. "I'll get it."  
That was... Something. _Good_ something. She hadn't had any welcomed advances in a little while. A few months, to be exact. When she broke things off with her previous boyfriend because he didn't like Tommie when he met her. She didn't have room in her life for someone who didn't like her family.  
She turned to the kitchen island, opened the bottom drawer, and unburied a small plastic box containing a tool kit from saved packets of plastic cutlery and napkins from fast food joints. She passed it to him, and their hands briefly touched before she withdrew hers.  
  
Okay, so this _was_ a weird moment.  
  
She had an instant attraction to him when he and his family moved into the house next door.  
Probably because something about him reminded her of Tommy, but with more Caucasian-looking festures. A handsome, dark haired man, the confident stance, and the way he didn't seem to talk much unless he had a sarcastic response to Amanda's criticisms.  
  
She wanted to fuck him.  
  
She observed as he made the repair.  
"You never learned how to fix stuff around the house?" He asked.  
"Never really had to learn," she replied. "I moved out to Las Venturas before Tommie was born and had friends help me since then."  
"What about today?"  
"They're out of town on business." Carl and Ken were in Liberty City. Everyone else had been busy lately and she didn't want to bother them. "Won't be back for another few days."  
"No boyfriend to help out?" He knew her husband wasn't in the picture. Never learned the specifics. But he knew the name Vercetti from...somewhere... He could never remember.  
"No, no boyfriend. I don't think having a twelve year old daughter is something many Los Santos men care for." She sneered, spinning the gold wedding ring around her finger. She never really wanted to take it off. Not even over a decade after she left.  
"Should still try while you're young. What, you're like twenty eight?" He asked.  
"Forty two." She corrected.  "Close to forty three."  
He paused to glance at her. No way she was over thirty. She was hot as _fuck_. Amanda had to fight like hell to keep away signs of aging, but Lita seemed like she had stopped the clock all together.  
"Well you look good," he said, trying to make it sound like an offhand comment. "You could pretty much pick anybody in San Andreas."  
She laughed, anxiously twirling a long lock of wavy black hair. "Flattery won't get you paid."  
He was glad she couldn't see his face. Because God knows how he looked right then with how the thought of how well her body must have also aged flashed through his mind. He stole a glance at her bare thighs. Those shorts were almost too short. He wanted to take them off of her.  
He shook the dumb look off his face. "Payment ain't necessary. Just don't turn me away when I come lookin' to borrow a cup of sugar." Cheesy, but smooth by his standards.  
  
Was... Was he hitting on her?  
"Turn you away? Never." She replied, trying not to react. Like a game of Chicken. "Borrow the whole spice cabinet if you want, I might need some more favors in the future. I don't know how to fix much of anything in a house." Just guns, really. And she could hotwire a car.  
She remembered a time when she hotwired a golf cart and she and Tommy went for a joyride in Leaf Links late at night... They fucked on the green and went back to his place covered in grass stains. Fifeen years ago. One of her favorite dates.  
  
The promise of returning favors sounded like an excuse to have him over. _Hot damn_.  
"Nothin' happens at home, so I'm pretty much always available to help," Michael tried to play it cool.  
  
An excuse to come over and see her, she noted.  
"Really?" She asked, unaware that she took on a coy tone. "How many other neighbors get the same special treatment?"  
"Just you."  
"I was gonna say," she chuckled. "That's a lot of 'sugar' to borrow."  
"Haven't had any," he said. "Not since we moved out here." A whole year. "Amanda's been freaked out by the move. She barely wants to share a bed."  
She could relate. She hadn't had sex in a few months herself. "So you're trying to get it elsewhere."  
"Something like that."  
"What would your wife think?" She asked incredulously, fighting to suppress a simpering grin. She didn't really care. Didn't change that she wanted him. If he had no problem going outside of his own marriage, then neither did she.  
Sorry, Amanda. Use it or lose it.  
They weren't even really friends anyway, so... Fuck it.  
"Not much since she's probably doing the exact same thing right now," he confirmed, easing himself out from under the cabinet and flipping the switch for the disposal.  
The sink drained immediately, sucking down the dirty water in a whirlpool until it was all gone.  
"My hero!" She breathed a sigh of relief.  
He smirked, proud of a job well done as well as having the hot single mom next door in his favor. It sounded like the opening scene of a porno to him. He was just gonna go for it, then. "All in a day's work... So how about that sugar?"  
They snickered like a couple of immature kids, standing arms length apart leaned against the kitchen island.  
"Right now?" She returned his smirk. Cocky with knowledge of getting what she wanted.  
He shrugged, taking a step closer. He was sort of surprised that she really took him up on it. "Only if you got the time."  
She glanced at the wall clock. Eleven thirty. Tommie wouldn't be home for a few hours still.  
She moved closer until their chests were pushed together. "I think I can give you an hour or two."  
Then they kissed. Hard. Michael's hands seized the back of her shorts and roughly grabbed her ass.  
A gasp against his lips made him grow hard, and she could feel it through his beige cargo shorts.  
They ran upstairs in excitement like a couple twenty years younger, and slammed open the door to the master bedroom. Michael threw her onto the bed and she laughed, giddy and lightheaded as he laid between her thighs.  
They kissed over and over while pulling off each other's clothes with urgency.  
The worst part was that he insisted on teasing her with an almost excess of foreplay and making her beg for him to fuck her.  
She loved every second of it.  
She could barely remember the last time she lost control of her voice the way she did. Michael was vocal too, an even better addition to their coupling. The rest of the house was empty, and would've been silent if not for the shamelessly loud sounds of lust coming from upstairs.  
He had her bent over in the bed, and his fingers dug harshly into her hips as he pulled her back onto his cock; so hard that she'd discover bruises near her waist later that evening in the shower.  
She wanted to scream. The intense ecstasy he'd elicited within her was almost maddening, and she made sure he knew. She even pushed herself back against him to force him against her sweet spot.  
She cried out when she finally climaxed. And within minutes, he got her to cum again. And again- the sensation only joyfully elongated by how he fucked her relentlessly until she could feel his cum dripping down her thighs.  
  
They fucked again in the shower, albeit slower. More rough. Dead set on getting their fill of each other. It took a long time for them to finally decide to get clean. Around the time they ran out of hot water.  
They decided it was time to stop afterward, finally getting dressed again just in time for Tommie to come home from school and find them both in the kitchen, drinking water to try to regain some vitality.  
"You're home early, baby," Lita said. "I didn't expect you for a few more hours."  
"I forgot today was a half day," Tommie said. "Hi, Mr. De Santa. Nice to see you."  
"Uh- Hey, Rosa," he used her preferred name. "Nice seeing you too. I was just on my way out. Your mom asked me to help fix the sink."  
Tommie looked at her mother for confirmation, and Lita gave it to her. "Yup, just had some problems with how it was draining. He saved me from having to call a plumber. Thanks again, Michael. I owe you."  
Tommie didn't notice the look they shared.  
She would thank him more some other time.


	7. We'll See

"You seem happy lately," Kendl observed while Lita hummed a song and poured three glasses of orange juice for herself, her daughter, and their guest. Cesar was at work, and Lita invited Kendl to breakfast that Saturday morning. "You meet somebody?"  
"Something like that," Lita grinned.  
"What does that mean?" Her daughter asked, glancing up from her pancakes.   
"It means your moms' got a new boyfriend," Kendl explained.   
"Ooooooh," Tommie nodded. "Is he hot?"  
" _Very_ ," Lita chuckled.  
"Like a Jezz Torrent thirty years ago hot or like a Mr. De Santa hot?"  
Lita nearly choked on her orange juice, struggling to gulp it down without coughing. "Tommie, what the _fuck_ , he's _forty!_ "  
"Who's Mr. De Santa?" Kendl asked.   
"The neighbor," Tommie laughed at her mother's reaction (Did she know?). "I think he's kinda hot. In a older guy sorta way. A little fat for my tastes, though."  
 _Oh Lord in heaven_ , Lita was ready to laugh uncontrollably. She guessed that a similar taste in men ran in the family. _The poor, poor girl._    
"My _friend_ reminds me of your dad," Lita said, trying to take the subject away from Michael.   
"Sounds like a prick, then," Tommie casually muttered.  
"Tommie!" Lita warned, cheeks turning red. Kendl broke into a fit of laughter. She heard the stories about Tommy- and that calling someone a prick was like a default for him. Tommie was so much like her father that it was shocking every time a new similarity arose. Like how she didn't like mushrooms and the exact way she calculated everything she did.  
"Rosa," she corrected. "Say it with me: _Ro. Sa_."  
Lita grimaced. She'd never really understand why her daughter rejected her birth name. Why did she hate her father? They'd never even met. "He's not a prick, I promise you." Lita rolled her eyes. "He's an okay guy. I think you'd get along with him." _Wait- shit._  
"Am I gonna meet him?"  
 _Oops_. "Maybe. We'll see."  
  
"Fuck- Michael!"  
His head between her legs was obscenely good; and if she weren't lying down, she'd have collapsed.   
Four months later, they were still at it.  
At least three times a week, Michael made up excuses to disappear from his house to sneak next door so they could have what they'd been deprived of.   
"You're already this wet for me?" He asked, stopping momentarily to nip at the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. His fingers reached deep inside of her, only building up the need for him to take her.   
"I _really_ like you," she breathed heavily. He hadn't even been down that way for three minutes. They'd spent a fair amount of time building up to it, though. Lots of kissing and groping. They still felt like brand new partners who were learning new ways to make each other squirm. Everything was exciting.   
The way his tongue flicked over her clit felt like magic; and he wouldn't quit until she had to clamp a hand over her mouth to keep from any random passerby on the sidewalk outside from hearing her shriek. The windows were wide open.   
She'd touch him if she could reach.   
"I can't wait," she groaned, hands trying to steady her legs. She couldn't keep still no matter how hard she tried. They twitched with every move he made. "I can't wait anymore, I need you. Fuck- Come on, Michael please-"  
He looked at her like a predator closing in on its prey. Numb to everything but his kill.  
"Well," he growled, between licks. "Since you asked so nicely." He sat himself up and pulled her closer by her waist and holding her legs open.  
He pressed into her with ease, letting out a husky sigh of relief as the warmth of her body enveloped him.   
Lita visibly shivered when he was finally inside of her. The familiar chill running up her back was assurance that she wasn't far from her orgasm.   
She couldn't remember the last time she had someone who got her to cum more than once at a time, or even cared to try. They couldn't draw it out today. Time was limited.   
"Fuck, you feel so good, baby," he hissed, hunching over her to kiss her and make her taste herself on his lips. "So fuckin' tight..."  
God damn it, she loved how filthy he spoke to her. He did it all of the time. They even sent dirty emails back and forth throughout the week- sometimes with pictures. Equal parts graphic and exhilarating.   
Time ticked on- they'd have to stop soon. Their kids would be coming home from school.  
"You're gonna make me cum," Lita whimpered. Michael took that as a signal, and she involuntarily threw her head back against the bed with a euphoric shriek when he began to fuck her harder. The head board at the top of her bed smacked against the wall hard enough to leave gray scuff marks on the paint.   
"Cum for me," he ordered, lying over her and grunting with each thrust. Each movement was building toward his own climax. "Come on, baby, cum for me-"  
"Fuck!" She yelped, crying out at each unrelenting ounce of pressure against her G-spot once she reached her peak.   
Her pussy contracted around him so firmly that he wasn't able to hold out anymore. He finished inside of her, feeling sparks throughout his body as he slowed his movements so he could release every last drop of cum. They never had scares from the start.   
Lita said she had been on the pill since her daughter was born and he got a vasectomy after Jimmy. Didn't want any more kids running around.   
He didn't stop moving until they were worn out, riding out the aftermath of their pleasure. They stared into each other's eyes, breathing heavily, mind's blanked as if they'd taken a powerful drug.   
And then they laughed, feeling immature, yet strangely happy, peppering each other's faces with soft kisses and bodies tightly wrapped around each other.  
This was great.  
  
It'd been a few more months they started...whatever this was. There wasn't quite a label on it. They just liked being around each other.  
They even liked just talking. They were surprised that they both were in similar businesses before they came to Los Santos. He had also been excited to hear that she was a music producer. He had always hoped to get into a similar role.  
They went out on dates every once in a while. Mainly to places where nobody expected to see them. Dinner dates, movies, night swims at Vespucci Beach- tonight they went to Del Perro Pier. Just to walk down to the end of the pier and stare out at the dark horizon and gentle waves glittering in the moonlight.  
"Where were you fifteen years ago when I wasn't married?" He gave her a small smile, eyes looking up and down her face. From her eyes to her lips and back.   
"Two years married myself," she smiled; mirthless. She kicked the remaining piece of a discarded hot dog near her foot out into the water and watched as it was immediately swallowed by a fish. "I almost wish I met you first," she said. "You left it all behind for _your_ kids. I wish my husband would've done the same."  
"Yeah, but _just_ for them," he said, setting his arm around her waist. "Amanda didn't even wanna come. Me and her... We've been at odds for years. I don't even think she'd care if I turned up dead."  
Lita sighed. "Yeah... Tommy's probably remarried by now. He used to have this girl Mercedes before we knew each other. He probably went back to her... Sometimes I wonder if he thinks I'm dead. Sometimes I wonder if he's dead by now..."  
Michael frowned and pulled her closer. She wrapped an arm around his middle as well before she leaned her head against his shoulder. "Look, I know you haven't seen him in forever, but you can't let him stop you from living- or else you're just waiting to die. Feels like that's just what I'm doing."  
"I _am_ living."  
"No, I mean _really_ living," he said. "Falling in love, remarrying, living your life."  
She chuckled. "Come on."  
"What?" He asked. "Anybody'd be lucky to have a wife as hot and awesome as you. You know how hard it is for me to keep my hands off your ass?"  
She broke into laughter. "Shut up! Don't joke about that!"  
"Who's joking?" He smiled, leaning in to kiss the side of her head.   
That made her smile. A real smile.   
A few calm seconds passed before Michael broke the silence again.  
"I don't think me and Amanda are gonna last," he said.   
Her smile dropped. Why would he bring that up right then?   
"We haven't even spoken in four days. She's got this guy out in town- she's just looking for the door, I know it." He turned her so that they were facing each other. "I think... We might get divorced. I don't know. But if we do, I don't wanna have to hide this anymore- being with you. I like you."  
"Michael-"  
"I _love_ you."  
"Michael, come on, don't."  
"I'm serious," he turned and pulled her closer to look into her eyes. She looked sad. And nervous. _Why?_ "I love you. Lita." He said. "I'm serious."  
"Don't," she said, setting her hands along his cheeks. "I know we have fun, but I don't want you to drop your entire life for me- it's not fair to your family. They'd all just fucking hate us for it. We wouldn't be happy. It wouldn't be worth it. And I _still_ love my husband. Just like I know you _still_ love Amanda at least a little bit."  
"Not the same way," he said. "You and me are- it's like we were made for each other. The lives we've lived, this thing we've been doing-"  
"Michael, you know we can't. I didn't think you felt like this. I didn't even think we'd even speak _at all_ when you moved in. I don't want this to be any more serious than it is. We've both really fucked up to let it get to this point..."  
"Come on," he said. "Just think about it. I know there's no promises. But just think about it... We could be great. I love you." He pressed his lips against hers, free hand combing through her long dark hair.   
"Stop saying that," she said in between being kissed. "Or you're just gonna make get me started. Because I'm a fucking idiot and I might love you too."  
"I think..." He said, keeping his forehead against hers. "I think I'm gonna end it. Tomorrow. I'll talk to her tomorrow. Just wait, okay?"  
She hated to think that part of her was hoping she could have him.


	8. Grown Up

Needless to say, he didn't leave Amanda. Lita was mostly relieved that he didn't. Seeing his wife in tears because she knew of an affair made him lose his edge, and he promised to end it with the other woman- the same night he had confessed to Lita. She had been right. He had an obligation to his family first, and he dreaded having to tell Lita that she was right.  
They broke things off quietly. She didn't have any negative feelings about him for it. Neither of them did, yet it was still a bitter moment that ended abruptly so that neither of them would show weakness.  
They still felt for each other and they avoided speaking for a long time because of it.  
She didn't want to be the reason their family came apart. It was bad enough that her own family came apart because she chose to disappear into anonymity.  
She'd never forgive herself for the relationship. She spent as little time around Amanda as possible out of guilt.  
It wasn't even the sex that made her feel guilty- but that Michael _loved_ her.   
And even worse; that she felt like she loved him too. The first man she felt real intensity for since Tommy; and he was already married with kids. Cruel irony.  
Maybe they were meant to be. But it just didn't feel right because of the gold and silver bands they both wore.  
It was a bad decision she didn't want to repeat, yet didn't truly regret.   
What even came over her to let herself fall for a married man?  
The same thing that made her decide to explore her sexuality in the first place, she assumed.  
  
"-I swear to god," she heard her daughter say through her bedroom door. "If you say anything to him, I'm gonna fuck your dad when I turn eighteen next week."  
... _What!?_  
Lita stopped outside of Tommie's door to eavesdrop.  
"Gross, Rosa!" Tracey De Santa's voice replied from within the room. "What the fuck!?"  
Tommie had become friends with Tracey. Michael's daughter who was now twenty. They'd been friends for four years now. It was 2011. God knows what took so long for them to get along.   
Tommie was seventeen, a few days from turning eighteen. And ,apparently, considered herself a consenting adult already.  
Lita was forty eight. She and Michael broke off their relationship five years ago. Hard to believe they'd lasted so long before it ended. Amanda never did figure out that Lita was the other woman.  
"What, you didn't know?" Tommie laughed in her room with Tracey. "I've had a crush on your dad since I was, like, ten! Since you moved in! He was like my first crush _ever_."  
"That's _so_ gross."  
"You know what's not gross? Your hot dad. I'm gonna be your new mommy by this time next year."  
Again, Lita was torn between laughter and anxiety. Michael wasn't the kind of guy to get with both a mother and her daughter... _right?_  
At least she hoped he wasn't.   
"Fine, whatever," Tracey groaned. "I won't tell Hector you're madly fucking in love with him! You psycho!"  
"Oh- pssh, suck my balls, I'm not in love with him! I just love his dick. Like you and Mark, _ya sloot_."  
"Goddamn it," Lita muttered under her breath and rolled her eyes. How long ago did her teenaged daughter start having sex? She knew nothing of it up until now.  
And what the fuck is a 'sloot'? Oh it's 'slut'. That's clever.   
The next day she tried to casually ask her daughter if she felt like she was ready to go on birth control. Tommie decided to be transparent about her sexuality from then on.  
Tommie had grown to be taller than her mother by a few good inches, but it was still hard to believe that she was almost an adult. She was still the baby of their family of friends.  
Parenting was so much easier when she was a baby.


	9. Trevor

_Where the hell is she?_  
Lita tried calling her daughter nearly a dozen times that night. It was late. She said she'd be home hours ago.  
She frequented the front porch to check and see if Tommie was walking up to the house.   
Instead, Ken's gray Primo pulled into the driveway and he and Tommie stepped out.  
"Where the hell were you?" She asked accusingly. Tommie had gotten into trouble a couple of years ago and had a stay in rehab for a few months. Lita wouldn't let her slip again.   
Ken talked her down, insisting that Tommie wasn't in any trouble. As far as she knew, Ken wouldn't lie for her daughter about something so serious. So she accepted his answer at face value.   
  
But she could still sense that something was off.   
Tonight she wanted to know about Tommy.   
She hadn't asked about him in years. She once found his mugshot from the seventies on the internet. That was the only available picture worth seeing.  
Lita considered printing it out and keeping it. She missed seeing his face, albeit a face he had fifteen years before they even met.  
Just over a week ago, Ken had to bring her home from the police station. Something was wrong.  
But Lita gave her daughter the truth of how they'd met. What they did, and what he was like, and how she came to San Andreas without him.  
It was late 2013. She was twenty now. That was old enough to understand... Hopefully it wouldn't change how she was perceived as a mother.   
  
She came home with a motorcycle in the following weeks. Lita noticed her frequently coming home smelling like alcohol and having residue on her fingers that reminded her of the black powder that rubbed off of bullets when you loaded them into a magazine. What was she doing every day?  
Lita chose not to say anything. She knew she wouldn't get the truth until Tommie wanted to give it to her. But she would keep an eye out. The first sign of drug abuse, she'd spring into action.  
  
The biggest shock of her life was coming home to find an older man asleep in her daughter's bed.   
This person (Tommie called him Trevor) was familiar in some way. Like she'd seen him before.   
An argument ensued, ending with Lita discovering thousands of dollars stashed in Tommie's backpack and Tommie disappearing on her motorcycle.   
"I don't know what to do!" Lita cried, tearfully gathering up money from the bathroom floor. "I did my best to be a good mom and raise her to be smart, but I wasn't good enough."  
"It ain't you," Carl assured when he came back inside from trying to stop Tommie from leaving. "She's grown. She chose. She's fuckin'..." He shook his head. "She's gonna do as much stupid shit we all did as kids."  
"I just wanted her to be _better_ than me." Lita sunk to her knees on the linoleum and started just shoving fistfuls of money into the backpack. It reminded her all too well of the night she left Vice City.   
Even Ken was reminded of how she arrived at Fort Carson. Scared. Alone. And with a bag of money.   
"I don't even know where this money came from- I don't even know what to do with it!"  
"I have an idea," Ken finally spoke up.  
They discussed it as a group.   
They brought it downstairs after cleaning it up and counted it out. $7,500.  
"I guess it's settled," Lita said. "Next time we see her. She's going back."  
The memory of where she'd seen Trevor before clicked in her skull.   
 _She'd seen him and his truck at Michael's._  
  
Thankfully, Amanda's and Tracey's cars were both absent. Michael's car, however, sat alone in the driveway. That would make this easy.  
It wouldn't have stopped her if his family was there anyway. She didn't care if anyone else was there to see her confront him, she had something bigger to worry about.  
She strode into the De Santa's back yard unannounced and saw him in one of the lawn chairs. Sunglasses on, earbuds in, drink in hand.  
"Tommie's gone!"   
Her shout caught him by surprise and he ended up spilling whiskey all over himself. "Jesus Christ! You scared the ever-loving  _shit_ outta me!" He stood up and threw his earbuds and phone onto the dry lawn chair next to his.   
"That creepy old motherfucker you bring around was _in my house_ this morning, Michael! With Tommie! You fucking brought that guy around here. Around _my kid!?_ Around _yours!?_ "  
"Hey, hey, slow down!" He set his hands on her arms to try to calm her, absently rubbing up and down her darker skin. "What happened?"  
"She left. He was here this morning, he left, she left afterward-- and I think she went with him. _You_ know him, what is he going to do with her if she stays with him!?"  
"He's not gonna hurt her, okay?" He assured. But she knew that he wasn't sure of that by the way he looked back at her.   
The mutual lack of confidence left her feeling helpless. Like this was all her fault. She thought she raised her only child better than this, but all the signs of being a troubled kid were there. But this was so different...  
"I just want her to come home," Lita cried, turning away from him to hide tears welling in her eyes. " _Fuck_ , please, just find her. She'd be where he is, right?"  
"I'll find her and I'll talk to her."  
The way she looked at him was new. She never looked so upset for as long as he knew her. He knew she needed him right then.   
He failed to resist the urge to hold her. This woman he still felt love for. His heart swelled in his chest when her slender arms wrapped around his middle and she leaned against him. Secure.  
He'd kiss her if he thought she'd let him.   
"I'll bring her back home when I do. I promise."  
"Thank you..." She was reminded that her feelings hadn't faded just yet either. But she wouldn't admit that. It was too late.   
And there were more important things. 


	10. Successfully Rehabilitated

In May of 2014, Lita woke one morning to find Tommie downing coffee in their kitchen.  
Lita nearly screamed when she saw her, eyes bloodshot and tired, and arms nearly coated in fresh tattoos, in a dirty, wrinkled T-shirt and shorts that looked like they didn't belong to her. And she awkwardly said "Hi, Mom."  
Lita rushed forward and threw her arms around her daughter. There were lots of tears from both of them, from that moment onward. Tommie apologized so many times within just two minutes, and shakily answered all of her mother's questions. Ending with-  
"I- I'm off the wagon," Tommie admitted through tears. "I wasn't before, but- I don't wanna fucking be like this anymore, I-"  
"It's okay, it's gonna be okay," Lita assured. "We're gonna get you fixed up... But- look at me." Tommie's dark brown eyes met her mother's. "I need you to decide what you want. Do you wanna keep doing this every few years because it starts off fun, or do you wanna be better? How much do you wanna prove that you can be Dr. Vercetti or Salamanca or whatever name you wanna keep."  
"I want that," Tommie replied. "I wanna get my degree. I want _my_ life."  
"That's my girl."  
  
Tommie made good on her promise and worked to better herself. She never touched any hard drugs again.  
There were things she said she didn't want to talk about, and Lita didn't push her into it both in or out of the therapist's office. She had to accept that some things had changed Tommie and she may never tell her what they were. She'd have to be patient.  
On her first day home, she got a haircut as a birthday present to herself.  
A solid thirteen inches of hair length were cut from her locks and when she came home from Bob Múlet, Lita couldn't resist running her fingers through Tommie's shortened waves.  
"My hair used to be this long," she said, moving it away from Tommie's eyes. "Back when I was in my early 20's too."  
"Yeah but you had one of those bad 80's perms back then," Tommie grinned.  
Lita laughed, more than overjoyed to see Tommie being herself again. "Hey, that was stylin' as fuck back then!"  
They celebrated her twenty first birthday at Bahama Mama's. Lita must've taken a million pictures and kept them all saved in a special folder on her phone named "my baby came home".  
She met some of Tommie's new friends too. A young man named Franklin, who was dating Tracey De Santa, and Lamar who was... eccentric. But in an endearing, funny sort of way.  
Tommie spent more time with them and Tracey as a group over time. Most days, they would gather at the Vercetti's pool, in Franklin's house in Vinewood Hills, or Tommie would get them to work out with her. Competitively.  
Franklin lived a little down the road from CJ. Small world. He and Lamar seemed like good guys. Wore a lot of green- that was when Sweet told her they were CGF.  
Well... It's not like they didn't already have ties to the gang. It wouldn't hurt to have them around.  
  
_"I owe u for bringing her home,"_ Lita texted Michael, a week after Tommie's birthday. She'd already thanked him profusely, but she didn't feel like it was enough. She'd be indebted to him forever.  
_"Don't mention it. Glad she's ok"_ his reply said.  
_"Anything u need i'll take care of it. Just say the word"_


	11. The Second Time Around

She was expecting a call any day now about how Tommie had inadvertently found her father and hated his guts.  
But from when she left in late 2015 and onward, the call never came.  
Instead, they spoke about school, her job at the book store, a guy she me, etc.  
  
Lita had a strange premonition in early 2016.  
She got a strange phone call on Tuesday. She answered, forgoing checking her caller ID, with an enthusiastic " _Hellllooo?_ " She expected it to be Tommie.  
But nobody on the other side answered.  
"Hello?" She asked again. But still no answer.  
Wrong number, she assumed before she took the phone from her ear. She could've sworn that she heard the faint sound of her name on the other side before she pressed her screen to end the call. But they'd call her back if it was important. They didn't.  
  
She couldn't place what it was, but she just couldn't sleep on Wednesday. The very next night.  
She had the urge to call Tommie to ask if she was okay, but she knew her daughter was asleep- just like she should be. This reminded her of how she used to wake up in the middle of the night when Tommie was a baby and was about to start crying.  
_C'mon,_ she told herself. _Go back to sleep. There's nothing wrong. She's fine._  
Eventually, she turned over and nodded off into a shallow, troubled sleep with lucid dreams of responding to her crying baby.  
  
The next morning was perfectly normal, but she couldn't shake the feeling. Tommie hadn't called. Lita didn't bother her. She was a busy young woman, after all.  
So Lita went about her business. Keeping the house clean, going to work every few days, paying bills. Everything was fine. It took an entire week for her to shake the feeling- though the intrusive thought of there being a problem remained.  
She finally called Tommie the next Friday, unable to hold off on not checking in.  
"Hi, Mija!" She greeted, trying not to sound worried. She plugged her earbuds into her phone to keep her hands free while they talked. She dragged the slimmer through the pool. Lots of bugs, not many leaves. She got the last of them.  
_"Hey, Mom,"_ Tommie answered. Lita could hear apprehension in her voice. Was she just busy? _"What are you up to?"_  
"Just spending time at home," she answered, finishing with the skimmer and putting it back in the little detached building in their back yard with the holiday decorations. She didn't put anything up for Christmas. Tommie didn't come home for it. A lonesome new year. "It's been raining a lot lately, so I spent today trying to balance out the pool. How's school?"  
Tommie was quiet on her end. Just as Lita was about to repeat her question-  
_"Hey, um..."_ Tommie said, noticeably uneasy. _"There's some things I need to tell you..."_  
Lita's heart nearly stopped in her chest. Her premonition was correct?  
"W- What is it?" She stammered anxiously.  
_"Hang on,"_ Tommie replied. _"I'm switching to video."_  
Tommie ended the call, and sent a video request seconds later. When Lita answered it, she saw her daughter in a familiar gray room with a huge window. She was wearing black. She looked so tired.  
"Tommie, what's wrong?" Lita asked nervously.  
_"I don't know how to tell you this,"_ she began, pulling her hair away from her face.  
She struggled to find the words for a few seconds. Lita walked inside the house in the mean time, sitting at the kitchen island and propping her phone against an unopened bottle of water.  
Lita waited patiently while Tommie blinked hard, clearly having something horrible to admit. What was it? Drugs? Pregnancy? Hospital visit? Arrest?  
_"Tommy's.... Dad's dead."_  
Lita's breath caught in her throat. She didn't believe her ears. She was fifty three, they could've tricked her for all she knew.  
But Tommie kept talking. _"He died last week. He--"_ She stopped to rub her bloodshot eyes, smudging her makeup in the process. _"He was shot."_  
Lita's jaw dropped, eyes instantly stinging with overflowing tears against her will.  
Tommie started the story from the beginning. The real beginning; starting with the four men she killed in the desert two years ago. The strip club, The Malibu, Forelli and Leone, Avalon Charles and the FIB, and ending with how Tommy had taken a bullet for her.  
Lita listened to every word. Stunned. Overwhelmed with grief and horror all at once. Tommie had to pause her story several times near the end, when they both wept. No longer trying to hide it.  
This was another moment that she would never stop thinking about.

  
Tracey's wedding was six months later.  
Lita watched as Tommie walked down the aisle with Lamar as maid of honor and best man. Rosa looked beautiful as could be in the floor length dress- she was also the only tattooed member of the bridal party. Champagne pink bridesmaids' dresses were obviously Tracey's choice in color. Lamar's tie matched, as did the other groomsmen's. Then came more their friends she'd never met, until she saw another familiar face. Trevor (who was forcibly cleaned up and dressed appropriately), with one last poor bridesmaid who seemed to be more than excited to not be next to him anymore when she rushed him down the aisle. He and Tommie stared each other down from then on. Lita hoped he would leave her alone, but Tommie wasn't a child. She'd talk to him if she wanted to... She'd make _a lot_ of bad decisions if she wanted to, apparently. Lita had to recognize that she couldn't stop her anymore.  
Finally, Michael walked his daughter down the aisle. Tracey looked lovely in her white dress and was positively glowing when she reached Franklin at the altar. She was a crier, Lita could tell. As if on cue, there were tears when they got to the vows.  
She sighed wistfully, reminded of her own wedding day. She didn't cry back then- at least not until the ceremony was over and she and Tommy were alone.  
She could see the rest of the De Santas in the front. Amanda frequently wiped away tears. Jimmy kept looking at his phone in disinterest.  
All in all, a beautiful ceremony for a happy couple.  
  
"They look so happy," Lita smiled when she approached the bar to find Michael leaning against the counter. Open bar at the reception. As per request, she assumed. "Congratulations, Michael."  
"Yeah," He sighed. "Frank's a good kid. I hated the idea of 'em together at first, but it grew on me pretty fast."  
She frowned. "... __I really hope it's not because he isn't _white._ "  
"No!" He spluttered. "It's because I worked with him... Sorry that Trevor's here, by the way. I know you probably wanna kill him."  
She grabbed a vodka and soda off of the counter. "You know me so well."  
"Yeah, well he's not gonna stick around too long. He's not into social gatherings."  
"I can relate," Lita sighed, twirling the ice around her cup. "How's life for you, anyway? Are things better with Amanda?"  
He gave her a pained look. "We talked. A lot... Neither of us is really into it anymore."  
_Oh._ "Sorry I asked," she muttered against the rim of her glass.  
"We're on the same page. That's the best way a divorce can even go. We aren't even like- bitter about it. We had a good run."  
"Can't help but feel like _I_ was a nail in that coffin."  
"Maybe. But I was the one doing the hammering."  
"Oh?" She smiled nervously. "I thought you did the _nailing_."  
They shared another short, uncomfortable laugh. "Y'know, Lita," he smiled thinly, looking at her and giving her a light nudge in the side. The charcoal gray dress she wore looked dynamite on her. "You still owe me that favor."  
"I do," she nodded.  
"Me and Amanda are gonna start seeing other people. I wouldn't mind seeing you again."  
Lita didn't look up from her drink, instead glancing at her wedding ring and smiling sincerely. "I think I'd like that," she said. "I think it's time to move on. For both of us."  
  
-  
  
Rosa's heels clicked against the tiles until she stopped outside of the reception hall where the party was being held. Coming back from the bathroom. She frequently tugged at the ever-sinking strapless dress and wondered why exactly she'd opted for it.  
Style, she assumed. She hadn't been to many weddings and she wanted to look exceptionally nice since she was the maid of honor.  
She sighed irritably as she eventually gave up on trying to adjust her boobs in the frock. It stayed high enough-- but sunk to where she doubted it looked tasteful.  
Why'd it feel so tight now? It didn't feel this tight during the ceremony.  
"You look good," a familiar gravelly voice said, coming up from behind her. She turned her head to see him.  
"Thanks," she quietly replied, reaching back to ensure the zipper was all the way up. It was. She knew _he_ would be there. Franklin warned her he'd be a groomsman. And Tracey wanted him there. What could she do but accept it? She assumed that he was warned of her presence too. Yet there they both were anyway.  
Trevor Philips pursed his lips and eyed her, almost sadly, as he took in the differences in her appearance since he last saw her. Her hair was longer, but not like before. She lost weight but looked stronger. She hadn't gotten many more tattoos done, but he could make out raised, puffy looking skin covered with makeup to conceal redness on her shoulder, as well as an ugly pink patch on one of her tattoos. Scarring. "What happened to you?"  
"Met my dad," she looked back at him, brows furrowed. She looked like that all day.  
"How'd that go?"  
She shrugged, absently grazing her pink painted nails against the scar on her arm. "Could've gone better... How've you been?"  
"Fine," he said. "I've been-- doing different things. Better things."  
She noticed that he didn't have any visible sores on his face. The ones she remembered were healed into faded scars.  
"Did you get clean?" She offered a small, sincere smile.  
He seemed embarrassed by it. It was a choice that came after his mother came to torment him just one more time. It made him hate himself less now that there were less depressants in his life. Besides, he was fifty. Time to run out the clock like a fucking adult. "I decided to go more minimal."  
"You got clean," she teased.  
"Minimal," he insisted. "I'm stepping down to coke, X, and weed. I fucking hate weed, but it's tolerable. Barely."  
"Well, it's a start," she smiled. "I'm glad to hear you're doing okay. I really am."  
She realized a long time ago that she couldn't really blame him for how things went. Trevor was a sick man. And she was a naive young adult, fresh out of her teens back then. The two of them together was an awful mistake just waiting to happen. She could neither love nor hate him; but she couldn't deny that they weren't too bad as friends- at least in her mind.  
He managed a smile, relieved that she didn't seem to hate him anymore as he began to walk away.  
"Uh-- Trevor?"  
Her voice stopped him, and he looked back at her.  
"There's been something I've been messed up about for a while. Can I talk to you about it sometime? Just so I can get the thoughts out of my head, maybe get a different perspective..." She looked to the ground, just about ashamed of asking that of him.  
"Yeah," he answered. "That's fine. Just don't start crying when you do, you're better than that pussy bullshit."  
She smiled, hoping that they'd actually help each other this time around. She wouldn't fall back into the same habits regardless, even if he did. Who knows? Things could be different the second time around. For everyone. "Thanks. Nobody knows me like you do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp, that's it, folks!  
> The end of 30 Years!  
> I hope you enjoyed reading, because I enjoyed writing out and developing these characters!


End file.
